


A wishful fancy

by sqbr



Series: Morrigan and Leliana [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fanfiction, Female Protagonist, Femslash, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-30
Updated: 2010-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/pseuds/sqbr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morrigan and Leliana realise they have more in common than they first thought.</p><p>A lot of DAO fic is about extrapolating the character's feelings etc during the events of the game. Writing this fic I tried to imagine an AU version of the game which had a Morrigan/Leliana romance, and then extrapolated from that. A LOT of the dialogue is copied or adapted from the game, though the context is often a bit different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A wishful fancy

**Author's Note:**

> This grew from a comic (see the series information) but ended up a bit different in tone which is why I separated them.

Leliana cooed over the elf shopkeeper's wares like a small child in a bakery. "Ooh, Morrigan, come look at this!" she cried, gesturing enthusiastically.

"I would rather not," replied Morrigan, looking up from the staff she was examining. "This whole exercise is pointless. I do not need your pity, if Curon prefers to be with that murderous elf then on his own fool head be it. And if I _did_ require consolation I would not find it by _shopping_. I am not some simple-minded fool to be distracted by any random…shiny…" Her mind skidded to a halt as she actually looked at the brooch in Leliana's hands. A large iridescent blue gemstone glittered in the soft forest light, nestled in the intricate knots and curls of a delicate silver setting. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She looked up at Leliana, whose smile held the slightest ghost of a smirk. Morrigan schooled her face into impassivity. "It is pretty enough, I suppose," she said.

"Sadly, Varathorn, it would appear that Morrigan does not like your brooch. I suppose you should put it away, and we shall look at sensible things like helmets and belts."

Morrigan scowled. "I said it was pretty, did I not? And as it happens I am in need of a brooch, for the clasp on my cloak has broken."

"Then allow me to buy it for you," said Leliana "As a thank you for healing my injuries yesterday."

"'Twas nothing," said Morrigan, but she took the gift. And if, when she wore it, she had a pang of annoyance at being so manipulated, it did not last long. It really was _very_ shiny.  


* * *

  
Alistair wasn't convinced that they'd had any compelling need to go to Denerim. Sure, they needed to come here eventually, when they were ready to confront Logain and deal with that whole horrible mess, but right now they didn't even have any human allies: elves and dwarves might be perfectly good at fighting darkspawn, but they wouldn't be much help getting the Bannorn onside.

But Curon was right, it was as good a place as any to earn money and pick up some better equipment. Even if some of the _sources_ of that income didn't bear thinking about too hard. And there was no doubting that Leliana and Morrigan had certainly found plenty to buy, if the bulging packs they'd returned with from the day's shopping were any guide. It was deeply surreal seeing the two of them getting along. Well, with regards to clothes and jewellery at least, they'd still spent an hour arguing about religion after the party had visited the Chantry.

Morrigan was holding a green robe against herself and holding up her little mirror to better see her reflection. "You were right, Leliana, once you remove those ridiculous shoulder pads these _are_ quite attractive."

"See? I told you! Now try them on with that amulet you bought from that little stall in the markets."

Alistair turned to the companion beside him. "Am I the only person who finds this disturbing?" He didn't really get along with either of them, but however crazy he thought Leliana was she'd always seemed to be fairly moral, and Morrigan was just _evil_. The two of them being friends could lead nowhere good.

"Are you kidding?" said Oghren "This is fantastic! I'm just waiting for them to get naked."

* * *

  
As the party headed south to Redcliffe they had to pass near the ruined wreck that was Lothering, and what was left of the Kocari Wilds. Leliana sent up a silent prayer to those she had known in the Chantry, hoping that if they had not escaped then that their deaths had at least been quick. Morrigan, too, was quiet, and Leliana wondered if she was thinking of the fate of her mother, and the only home she had ever known.

"Do you have any tales of the Wilds, Morrigan?" she asked.

Morrigan snorted. "None of the sort you like. No princesses in tall towers or knights throwing themselves at whole armies."

"That's not all I like!" protested Leliana. Clearly she was going to have to tell Morrigan some more stories, if that was all she thought Leliana was interested in.

Morrigan strode determinedly through the mud and rotten leaves, stabbing the ground with her staff with each step. "Do you want tales of the Chasind Wilders who dwell in the marsh? Do you want to hear of the slow deaths they inflict on their enemies? Perhaps a tale of the poisonous creatures of the Wilds that lay their eggs on your skin so that their young may eat you alive when hatch?" Morrigan's voice was bitter. At first Leliana had assumed that Morrigan's tales of her life before joining this quest were an exaggeration designed to shock, but having gotten to know Morrigan a little better she was less sure. If anything, Alistair and Curon's descriptions of Flemeth made her sound worse than Morrigan did. As if reading her mind, Morrigan continued "Or a tale of my mother's marsh cuisine? That, in my opinion, is the most terrifying of all my tales."

To Morrigan's evident surprise, Leliana laughed. "Come now Morrigan, surely it could not be worse than Alistair's stew."

Morrigan smiled wryly. "Tis true. There are some things that even the darkest tale of the Wilds cannot compete with."

"Hey!" said Alistair "I'm sure that's not true. My stew may be scarier than Flemeth's, but it's not as bad as…uh…walking skeletons. Walking skeletons are pretty scary."

"I would not be surprised if there were walking skeletons _in_ your stew," said Morrigan.

"Or maybe giant spiders. I could have sworn I saw an antenna in there once," added Leliana.

"Hmmph," said Alistair.  


* * *

  
Morrigan rifled through the vanity. There were the usual health poultices and some worthless looking personal effects, but tangled up in the beads and protective amulets was a pretty pendant on a chain, shaped into a symbol that was as familiar as it was annoying.

Morrigan considered leaving it. "Have you found something?" asked Leliana, walking over, as she carefully cleaned the darkspawn blood off her blades. Morrigan sighed. "Here," she said. "I think your worship of the Maker is absurd, but since you insist, I suppose you might find this amulet uplifting. It is certainly of no interest to me."

"Oh how dear of you!" said Leliana. "This is beautiful!" The look of joy on Leliana's face inspired a combination of affectionate irritation and some other emotion Morrigan decided she didn't want to think about.

The gift seemed to cure the dark mood Leliana had fallen into when the thick steel doors of the Tower had shut behind them. Morrigan was not so sanguine, still smarting that Curon had been so anxious to stay on the good side of this _Wynne_. "Sanctimonious old Chantry stooge," she thought to herself, as the circle mage lectured them all on proprietary and the proper use of magic. As if anyone who'd grown up in this walled garden could ever understand _real_ magic.

Leliana looked up from the corpse she was looting. "This is pretty," she said, pulling out a short necklace made of strands of silver chain from the folds of the dead soldier's tunic. "You are fond of silver, Morrigan. Would you like it?"

"For the love of...can you two ladies please stop exchanging jewellery and get back to the job of _saving the tower_?" exclaimed Curon, exasperated. "Maybe we could even hunt down the abominations, kill some darkspawn, that sort of thing? Unless you'd prefer to just stay here and exchange gifts until we are overcome by maleficar."

"Oh, I _am_ sorry Curon," said Morrigan "I realise necklaces are _much_ less helpful for fighting darkspawn than that shiny gold bar you're carrying around to give to Zevran. Not to mention that searching the area for supplies is a far less practical use of our time than spending _two days_ searching the Brecilian Forest for a pair of Dalish gloves."

Curon's pale skin blushed beneath his green tattoos. "That's...um…" He coughed. "Anyway. I think the First Enchanter's quarters are through this way. Weren't there some things we wanted to look for in there?"

* * *

  
Her mana temporarily drained, Morrigan rested against a tree to recuperate and watch the others fight the bandits who had attacked them on the road.

Her eyes were drawn to Leliana, who fired arrow after arrow with fierce determination and deadly accuracy before attacking with dagger and sword. She might play the pious innocent at camp, but in battle there was a fire in her eyes, a joy in the giving of death that lit up her face with a wild beauty.

The contradiction niggled at Morrigan's brain. Leliana claimed to have just "picked up these skills on the road" but Morrigan had met traveling bards before and none of them had been any good at picking locks or dirty fighting.

And even when she was playing the part of the good hearted Chantry sister it always felt like a _part_ to Morrigan, a role Leliana was performing rather than her true self. Underneath her naive faith and romantic optimism there always lurked an undertone of earthy humour and hard-eyed experience. Morrigan was not sure why Leliana acted this way, perhaps the person she was most trying to fool was herself. But it made her wonder what the real Leliana might be like.

Morrigan approached Leliana after the battle had ended, the bard's face still flushed with exertion and her armour spattered with blood.

"You were magnificent," she said.

"Thank you!" said Leliana. "You were amazing too, with the pssssh BOOM! The way you made that man pop!" She waggled her fingers to replicate the bloody explosion and laughed.

Morrigan smiled. "I would like to ask you a question, if I may."

"Of course," replied Leliana cheerfully, looking through her pack to find a cloth to wipe her face.

"I have heard that in Orlais, minstrels are often spies."

Leliana's expression suddenly shifted. "Where did you hear this?" she asked warily.

"Oh ho," thought Morrigan. "And now we see the true face of Leliana." She smiled. "Does it matter? The question is, is it true or not?"

Leliana regained her composure quickly and replied. "Not all minstrels are spies, most are just singers and storytellers. But some of them are... are what we call bards. They are minstrels, and more. Spies, as you say. Some say there is a bard order, but I don't think this is true."

"And you were such a bard, I take it?"

"It doesn't matter what I used to be. It is the past."

Despite Morrigan's best efforts Leliana refused to be drawn any further, and Morrigan let the conversation shift. But as they spoke of shoes and flowers Morrigan pondered what other secrets Leliana might be hiding. What exactly _had_ she been running from when she ended up in that Chantry?  


* * *

  
And now it was done. The demon was dead, Redcliffe was saved, and they had somehow managed to do it all without resorting to blood magic. But although this was probably the best outcome they could have hoped for, Leliana could not get the image of that poor possessed child out of her mind, nor the faces of the villagers as they tried to defend themselves from the shambling dead bodies of their own friends and family. She was not sure if it had been better or worse than the abominations they had faced in the Tower.

Morrigan came up to her as they trudged once again through the cold dead plains between Redcliffe and Denerim. "I imagine you have already composed a suitable ballad to commemorate the events at Redcliffe, Leliana?" she said cheerfully.

"Why would I do such a thing?" she said, drawing back. "What happened at Redcliffe was horrible!"

Morrigan opened her mouth to speak, and Leliana waited for the inevitable cutting remark. But something in her face must have shown how little she was in the mood for such criticism, for Morrigan stopped and looked at her with what could almost pass for concern.

"Well," she said, "If you will not do your duty as bard and entertain the party, then I shall have to do it for you. Tell me: how much do you all know of the tale of Flemeth?"  


* * *

  
The charms on Leliana's shoes glinted in the firelight. It was so sweet of Morrigan to have remembered their conversation and found a pair so like the ones she'd left behind in Orlais. She looked over to Morrigan's tent on the far side of the camp, where the witch was once again hunched over her grimoire. Her face was pale and strange in the flickering light, her dark hair and clothes almost invisible in the shadows of night. She was so strange and beautiful, capable of such kindness and such cruelty. Wynne and Alistair could not understand why she chose to be her friend (if friends they were) but Leliana found her irresistibly fascinating.

As if sensing her attention, Morrigan looked up and stared into Leliana's eyes for a long moment before returning to her book.

"If I am not mistaken," said Zevran, "That was an invitation."

"I do not...be quiet Zevran."

"Suit yourself," he replied. "But were I not otherwise engaged, and such a lovely lady stared at me so..." He leered.

"We are not all as single minded as you, Zevran," she said. But part of her wondered if he was right, and rankled at the fact that if she went up _now_ it would look, well. Very Zevran-ish. Luckily, at this point Morrigan looked at her again. "Perhaps Morrigan does wish to speak to me," she admitted "Though I doubt it is of anything more thrilling than shoes."

"Of course," said Zevran in reply, but his sly expression said otherwise. Men!

"Yes, what is it?" asked Morrigan as Leliana came up and sat next to her.

"I... have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair?"

"It's just hair," she replied.

Well, this was going swimmingly. "It's very nice and it suits you. Simple, not like the elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais. They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels..." She was babbling. "But I was trying to say something nice to you, wasn't I? Oh, forgive me. My mind wanders so. It's just that I... I feel so comfortable talking to you, like I could say anything and you wouldn't judge me."

"Truly? And here I thought I had made my judgments about you so clear."

Ah, this was a waste of time. Damn that Antivan. But just as Leliana was about to return to her tent in defeat, Morrigan's expression softened. "I apologise," she said. "I have little talent for...for accepting compliments or kindness. But I do appreciate them, and I am glad that you are comfortable speaking to me so." She paused and looked pensively at the open book in front of her, it's yellowed pages criss-crossed in a tight old-fashioned script and strange diagrams. "In fact I wished to speak to you myself. I have been studying Mother's grimoire. Do you wish to hear what I have found?"

* * *

  
In the end it was much easier to persuade her companions to delay their quest once again to help her than she had expected, though Morrigan doubted that any of them were motivated solely by concern for her welfare. Leliana and Curon, perhaps. But for the rest, however low their opinion of Morrigan, they still valued her life above that of the abomination Flemeth. After all, she thought to herself darkly, it was unlikely that her mother would be so willing to aid against the darkspawn.

On the eve of their departure, Wynne came to Morrigan.  
"I do not trust this errand of yours, Morrigan," she said, bluntly. "You are a creature of selfishness and deception, and I have no doubt that your true reasons for sending us to kill your mother are not those you have given."

"Then let her live," said Morrigan "I cannot go, and without you they would have no other mage. Stay, if you are willing to see me one day become host to an abomination."

"I would do so, if I was not convinced that Leliana would try to defeat Flemeth alone if need be. Leliana is a remarkable girl, sincere and guileless, and she has opened her heart to you. I have no idea why she has done this, but I would not like to see her hurt."

This was news to Morrigan (Friends, perhaps, but...opened her heart? Really?), but she wasn't going to let Wynne know that. "No indeed, clearly I must have cast some evil spell over her, what else could explain that she should prefer the company of a young beautiful woman to some dried up old circle mage who knows nothing of the world?" Morrigan grinned and leaned in so that her face was inches from Wynne's. "Truly it must be blood magic of the vilest sort." The older woman flinched and pulled away. "But I would not like to see her hurt, either," she said more seriously. "And since I will not be there you must safeguard her in my stead. Swords and and arrows are only so much protection against the likes of my mother."

"Yes. I see." Wynne seemed taken aback, presumably at actually agreeing with Morrigan about something for once.

"I suppose you should try not to let Curon get himself killed either," added Morrigan. "But if my mother eats Alistair I will not weep."

"How can you be so...wait, did you say _eats_?"

* * *

Leliana and Morrigan lay next to each other on a clear patch of grass, looking at the sky. Morrigan had told Leliana of the different constellations recognised by the Chasind, and in return Leliana had told her a rather sentimental tale of love both doomed and eternal. Morrigan felt she should laugh at it, but she could not.

Leliana turned her head to Morrigan. "Sometimes I ask myself, does such a love exist? Can it exist?"

Morrigan did laugh at that. "I think it foolishness to believe in love at all. It may make for a nice story, but to indulge in love is to indulge in delusion, to make yourself weak. What is real is passion. Sex. And if we are very fortunate, respect and trust. But not love."

"Is that all you think love is? And what about love of family, of a child... is that just attachment?"

"You have perhaps forgotten that my only family was an abomination who only cared for me so that she might later steal my body for her own. I did care for my mother, you might even say I loved her, and it brought me nothing but pain. Forgive me if this has left me a little cynical."

Leliana looked at her seriously. "I pray that one day you will find someone who will restore your faith in love," she said softly. She gently ran her hand over the side of Morrigan's face. Morrigan had to resist the temptation to turn her head and kiss it.

Instead she turned her whole body away. "This is foolishness!"

Leliana looked hurt, and this made Morrigan feel hurt and that made _no sense_. What was this, that she should be so caught up in her _feelings_? What good did that do her? She and Curon had at least lain together before Morrigan had found herself so painfully and regrettably dependent on his approval. Perhaps that was the problem: if Leliana was a man, Morrigan would have propositioned her by now, cleared the air and made their relationship clear. But since she was a woman she had foolishly seen her only as a _friend_, and now she was tangled in this confusing mix of affection and desire when it was possible that Leliana had always seen her as nothing more than warm body to keep her occupied on a cold night.

She made a sound of frustration and sat up.

"I have offended you, I am sorry." said Leliana.

"No, it is not that."

"Then what is wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong. It... is a little embarrassing to admit, in fact. You will need to forgive me for speaking so awkwardly...but do you suppose that we have become friends, you and I? I have nothing to compare it to."

"Of course!" said Leliana. She said it so easily! Morrigan imagined it was no great admission for one who made friends wherever they went. Leliana smiled so openly and so warmly that it made Morrigan's heart ache, and she had to turn away again.

"I am reminded of our first meeting. My past experiences had not led me to hold much respect for Chantry sisters, yet you were clearly a formidable woman, more potent than my own companions." She sighed. "I am aware that I have... little talent for forming friendships. To put it lightly. 'Tis something I know nothing of, nor ever thought I needed. Yet when I discovered Flemeth's plans, you did not abandon me. Whatever your reasons you fought what must have been a terrible battle without hope of real reward."

"Morrigan, I did it because we are friends," said Leliana.

"Well then, I want you to know that while I may not always prove... worthy... of your friendship, I will always value it."

"Not worthy? Morrigan..." Leliana smiled sadly. "I think you have too high an opinion of me, I am not so very worthy. I have done so many things I am not proud of." She leaned against Morrigan and embraced her, her face cool against her back, her arms soft against her stomach. Morrigan stayed very still, unsure of how to proceed.

Leliana sighed, her breath brushing across Morrigan's skin. "I lied to you, you know? About why I left Orlais."

* * *

  
And so they were in Denerim again, and this time they were as ready to confront Loghain as they would ever be.

Curon had been very quiet after they visited the alienage. He had always been dismissive of the city elves, but seeing the way they lived, and the way that the humans casually treated them as chattel, had obviously shaken him. Alistair had hoped to have Curon's support when he finally introduced himself to his sister but from the way Curon kept looking at the inhabitants of Denerim and muttering under his breath about the cruelty of shem...now was probably not the time. It probably wasn't the best time for Curon to be forced to help and mediate between warring factions of human nobles, either, but there wasn't much Alistair could do about that.

Of course if Alistair had any say in the matter he'd also rescue himself from these machinations. Or at least find some way to make everyone realise what a _really really bad idea_ it would be to make him King.

"The way they talk about Theirin blood you'd think I should maybe just jar it and stick that on the throne," he said to Curon.

"Well, don't worry, it's not your blood that makes _me_ think you're the better candidate," he replied, "It's the fact that you're _not Anora_."

"But everyone says she's a fantastic queen!"

"Really? That's not what I've heard, unless by 'everyone' you just mean _humans_."

"So you would put this _idiot_ on the throne instead?" said Morrigan angrily. "And what good will it do your beloved alienage when the whole country collapses in ruin? A ruler cannot afford to be _nice_, Curon. All of you, so unwilling to make the difficult decisions, so squeamish at the idea that any harm might come to an _innocent_."

"Morrigan..." started Leliana then followed her as she stormed off. The two of them could be heard shouting at each other in the hallway.

Alistair frowned to himself. As time went on he had come to genuinely respect and like Leliana, which made her relationship with Morrigan all the more troubling to him. But there wasn't much he could do about it. "Don't listen to Morrigan," he said to Curon. "Well, wait, _do_ listen to her about me being an idiot, but uh..."

"Oh that's alright, I'm used to to Morrigan saying things like that. There's a reason I broke it off with her."

Zevran pouted and sniffed in mock hurt. "It was not because I am so irresistibly attractive?"

"Oh, well, that too," said Curon grinning.

"Get a room you two," said Alistair.

"What a good idea!" said Zevran, and before long Alistair was alone in Eamonn's study.

Well at least someone was happy. And now Alistair had some time to himself...to worry about being made King. Huzzah.

* * *

"Morrigan!" said Leliana, when she finally found her standing by a window, picking at the stonework with her long painted fingernails.

"Have you come to berate me again for my cruelty to poor Curon?" she said mockingly.

"I might, if I thought you would listen," replied Leliana. "Why do you delight so in hurting others? You can be so sweet and thoughtful, and I have come…come to care for you a great deal, but then you act so horribly and I find myself wondering if you care for anyone but yourself at all."

"You wonder that do you? Yes, because of course _you_ are never cruel." Morrigan turned and poked her finger at Leliana's chest. "You do not delight in the pain of others, in manipulation, in the dealing of death. You are not willing to dirty your hands to do what needs to be done, you do not see beneath the lies people tell themselves about the world being fair and good. That is the other Leliana, the one who died in Orlais, to be replaced by this innocent Chantry sister who knows nothing of such things."

"I…she is not...are you saying you would prefer if I had stayed as I was? Because that Leliana is not dead. I have thought many times about finding Marjolaine again, hunting her down and killing her, and I...I take delight in these thoughts."

"And what is wrong with that?" said Morrigan. "She betrayed you and tried to have you killed. She will most likely try to have you killed again. It is if anything too forgiving of you to only _imagine_ killing her. I would not be so magnanimous if it were up to me."

"But that is what she would do, and to imagine her death with such enthusiasm...that is the first step down that dark path. I can feel myself slipping sometimes...I thought the Chantry had shown me another path, that I was done with that life. Are you saying that I am wrong? That I should let myself fall?"

"You are not slipping," said Morrigan, her hand slipping to Leliana's shoulder and her eyes intent. "This is who you are. You are no Chantry sister, you did not belong there, you belong here. Go with what your instincts tell you."

And so Leliana kissed her.

Morrigan immediately pulled away in surprise and Leliana cursed herself. What was she thinking? To spend so long uncertain of Morrigan's interest, of whether a relationship would be a good idea, and then to press the issue _now_? And Morrigan was Fereldan, for all Leliana knew she found the very idea of relations between women...and then Morrigan pushed her against the wall and kissed her back.

Leliana felt Morrigan's hands on her neck and arms and was reminded of how warm she was. She ran her fingers over Morrigan's hair and reached to untangle it from the knot it was tied in...and got stuck.

"Ow," said Morrigan, laughing. "I thought you Orlesian bards were supposed to be masters of the smooth seduction."

"I was in the Chantry for a long time," said Leliana "You shall have to help me practice."

A moment later she stopped them again to say "But I do not mean to _seduce_ you. You are my friend, and if it would make you uncomfortable to…for our relationship to change then I would rather we do nothing."

"If you will not seduce _me_, bard, then I shall have no choice but to seduce _you_," replied Morrigan, as her fingers tried to find some gap in Leliana's leathers.

"Ah, well, you may not find that so easy. We Chantry sisters are very virtuous you know." Morrigan, having found such a gap, only grinned. "But...regardless of our virtue we should stop now before we are made late for the Landsmeet."

Morrigan groaned. "This is your problem. You are _far_ too good."

As they straightened their clothes and headed to the Palace Leliana's mind began to clear and she was reminded of why they were arguing in the first place. Was this really a good idea? But then Morrigan looked at her, her smile both knowing and uncertain, and Leliana found it hard to care.

* * *

  
As a rule, Morrigan tried not to worry about the future. Flemeth had certainly always taught her to live in the moment, a piece of advice which seemed much less benign in retrospect. When she had started to fall for Curon there was a part of her that was in denial about what was to come, that spun ridiculous fantasies of the two of them running off and raising the child together, or of letting Alistair take the final blow and telling her mother the ritual had failed. (And her mother's plan to "save" the Grey Wardens also seemed much darker in hindsight. Morrigan wondered how long she would have lived once she had suffered through the inconvenience of childbirth on Flemeth's behalf) But when Curon had simplified matters by leaving her, Morrigan had vowed not to fall prey to such foolishness again. She would perform the ritual, she would help slay the archdemon, and then she would leave.

She told herself that these plans had no bearing on her relationship with Leliana. It was not as if they had a future together anyway, apart from their mutual attraction they were so different that without the shared goal of defeating the Blight they would almost certainly drift apart after the battle, even if Morrigan did not leave for other reasons. Leliana knew this as well as she, and why shouldn't they take advantage of what time they had left together to find some brief moment of happiness? It was a pity so much time had been lost already to her own moodiness and Leliana's strange Orlesian mix of coyness and chivalry.

And yet, she hesitated. She thought of a future without Leliana in it and her heart ached, and to reach for any further intimacy felt like it would only doom them both to more pain in the end. And so she sat here by her tent, and she braided Leliana's hair and made pleasant conversation while her insides twisted like a worm in the sun.

"I enjoy the nights at camp," said Leliana. "The night always seems more peaceful, to me. Safer." She lifted her head slightly from Morrigan's lap and said "Do not roll your eyes at me, I know the darkspawn do not sleep. But I enjoy the nights here standing guard with you, when we talk into the small hours...well, I talk and you listen, mostly..."

"Oh, were you under the impression I was listening?"

Leliana poked her in the stomach. "What I'm _trying_ to say is... is that even though we do not always agree, I trust you. I'm comfortable around you. I know you'll be there when I need you. And sometimes I think that...that maybe..."

"Do you love me?" asked Morrigan.

"Do I..." Leliana sat up and stared at her.

"Tis a valid question."

"I...don't know. You are very special to me...but...but I am never sure how _you_ feel."

"How I feel? I find you...impressive. Admirable. Attractive. But I feel anxious when I look upon you, and I dislike this sense of dependency. 'Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is 'love' I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."

"Are you saying that you love me?"

"No, that's... not what I'm saying. You need to pay attention. What I am saying is that I have been foolish. I have allowed myself to become too close."

"And if I do love you, what then?"

"Then we are both fools, and we should do something immediately. It would be for your own good to end this, I am am not worth your distraction. And you... are not worth mine. It will only bring us both pain."

"Morrigan, love is not a weakness or a distraction. And if it does not last or brings pain it is worth it to have felt love's sweetness for a little while." Leliana sat forward on her knees and brushed Morrigan's hair out of her eyes before gently kissing her on the forehead. "You are so brave, Morrigan" she said, "Do you really want to run away from this?"

"Yes. No. I do, and yet... I cannot." She watched Leliana's face as she smiled, her blue eyes crinkling and her mouth opening to speak. Morrigan run her thumb gently over her lips. "It is not just the _principle_ that bothers me, though that is bad enough. I have not told the others this, not even Curon, but after the battle I must go. I have business I must attend to and I will be gone for...some time. We may not ever see each other again. If we become attached now it will only make things more difficult when we part."

"Then I will come with you," said Leliana.

"You do not even...you cannot. This is something I must attend to alone. And do not ask me to explain, for I cannot."

"Then...then I will travel with Curon. And when you are finished with your business you can find him with his ring and you will return to me. Or perhaps I will simply hunt you down, I am very good at that you know." Morrigan felt an internal pang of embarrassment at the mention of the ring. She kept hoping Curon would sell it to some wandering merchant. "If you must go, then you must go. Part of me wonders if you are just saying this so you have another excuse to run away from me, but I shall trust you. And if now is all we have, then so be it."

"You are impossible!"

"Why thank you," said Leliana. But there was an edge to her cheerful tone, and she looked at Morrigan pensively for a while without speaking. It was a cold night, even with the fire burning, and Morrigan found herself shivering slightly as they sat together in silence.

"I do love you," she said. "Whatever happens I want you to know that."

Morrigan only frowned and Leliana sighed. "But it's getting late," she said. "I think I might... turn in early. I can't help thinking about how soft and warm my bedroll is."

"Well, I shan't keep you," said Morrigan.

"You're welcome to join me, of course. The Maker says we must share our blessings," said Leliana, as she got up and stretched.

"Why? Is there anything at all in your tent I would find interesting?" asked Morrigan.

"I can show you my collection of pressed flowers."

"I did not know you had such a collection."

"I... don't. Stop pretending you don't know what I want."

"Oh. Do we speak of _sex_ then?"

"Yes."

Morrigan smiled slowly and stood up. Perhaps her mother had been right, and it was best to live in the moment. "Well then. I am sorry but I still have no intention of sharing your bedroll with you. Your tent is small and cramped, and far too close to the others for my liking. _Mine_, on the other hand, is large, comfortably furnished, and far from the others, and has the advantage of being right here. Of course, 'tis rather cold in my tent, all alone." To emphasise her point she cast a slight chill breeze to swirl around Leliana and nudge her slightly forward. Morrigan turned around and walked to her tent, and did not have to wait long until she was cold and alone no longer.

* * *

  
Morrigan woke slowly, her mind rousing her instinctively at the sound of someone else moving around the tent.

"Hello." said Leliana. "Did you know your eyelids flutter when you dream? They're like little butterflies... I want to catch them and keep them in a jar."

Morrigan sat up and rubbed her eyes. "And now I discover, too late, that you are a madwoman."

"Liar," said Leliana, laughing. "You've thought I was mad since the first time you met me. But I suppose we should get up. We have a long day ahead of us."

Leliana's hair shone like fire in the golden light of dawn. The blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders slipped a little as she poked around Morrigan's things looking for breakfast (a dangerous thing to do in the tent of a witch).

"Come here." said Morrigan. "The darkspawn can wait."

* * *

  
If Leliana had thought Redcliffe tragic before that was nothing to the empty place of death it was now. All those poor people, to have fought so hard to survive against the corruption from the castle and then to die now at the hands of the darkspawn.

And they had come all this way for nothing! They were to only stay here a short while before returning once again to Denerim, perhaps too late to save that city either.

But she was not going to wallow in despair. Things were coming to a head at last, and she would do whatever was necessary to end this Blight.  


* * *

"There must be another way," said Curon.

"Is the idea of laying with me so very terrible? You did not seem to mind it before."

"Morrigan, you know I...what was between us is over. And the thought of this child..."

"Worry not, Curon, my feelings for you have cooled as much as yours for me, this is not some elaborate plot to get you back into my bed." As she said it Morrigan realised it was true, while she still cared enough for Curon not to wish to see him dead, what romantic feelings she had felt had faded to nothingness. So much for the eternal nature of love. Morrigan found herself wondering how long it would take for her feelings for Leliana to similarly fade, and decided it was not something she wanted to think about. "As for the child...that is my problem, not yours. Would you truly choose death rather than lay with me for one night? How can the creation of a new life be the worse possibility?"

"And what about Zevran? And Leliana?"

"Do you think they would risk your death when it could be avoided? And there is no reason for them to know if we do not tell them."

Curon looked pained but resigned, and Morrigan felt sure now that he would agree. She should have felt happy at her success, but instead a sick feeling pooled in the bottom of her stomach. How ironic, that she should yearn for this man for so long and yet now, when she had him, the very thought of touching him filled her with self loathing. But it had to be done. She walked slowly to his side and touched his arm gently. "Come," she said.

* * *

  
The gates of Denerim had stood for 500 years, protecting the city from invasion, bandits, and flood. They stood now in flames, surrounded by the corpses of the dead. The suburbs outside the city had been destroyed, the houses hacked into barricades and the inhabitants...it did not bear thinking about.

But now it was come, the final confrontation, and soon one way or another their quest would be over.

It was strange to listen to Riordan discuss their strategy, his accent reminded Leliana of her old home, of Orlais, but his words were of this world of Blights and archdemons that had been her new home for so long. She wondered where she would go afterwards, what she would do. Assuming she survived. It was hard to imagine.

These thoughts seemed to play on everyone's minds, all at once there were goodbyes and well wishes, everyone wanting to make sure they had said what was in their hearts in case they never saw each other again. She hugged Wynne and Alistair and pointedly shook hands with Zevran and Oghren despite their complaints that this was unfair. Even Sten wished her well, though they had spoken to each other little in all this time. Only Morrigan stood apart from all the others, though she took what goodbyes she received with uncharacteristic friendliness. "Because this truly is goodbye for her," thought Leliana, though part of her could not believe it.

Curon looked as if he was nearly ready to go. "Not yet!" thought Leliana. But perhaps she and Morrigan had said all that they had to say to each other last night and this morning. Regardless, Leliana went to her side and put her arms around her.

"So, this is it..." she said. "This is the end. It's strange knowing that all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours."

"You know I will be gone once this is done, yes? Whatever happens." Morrigan looked at her as if she half expected Leliana to start crying and demanding she stay. As if she had not outgrown such childish expectations that the world would change to suit her years ago. Not that she wasn't willing to make the effort to try.

"You will not stay for the celebrations?" She gave her most persuasive smile. "I believe Oghren has plans to make Alistair open the royal wine cellar."

"It... is tempting. You do not know how much. But, no. That would not be wise." Morrigan sighed and lay her head on Leliana's shoulder. "This could have been so much easier, yet I... cannot regret what was between us."

"Nor I," said Leliana. "You are my dearest friend and my love; I will always treasure the time we shared. May the Maker light your way on whatever path it is you must follow."

Morrigan laughed darkly. "I do not think the Maker will be lighting a path for the likes of me. But...I will always remember you... my love." Morrigan had turned her head away, and this last was said so softly that Leliana could barely hear it. She turned Morrigan's head towards her and kissed her.

They were interrupted by an apologetic Curon. A strange look passed between he and Morrigan.

"Go, then, the both of you," she said. "Slay the archdemon. Live gloriously and well."

"Farewell," said Curon. "And good luck."

And then they were off into the city, and towards the Archdemon.

* * *

It was the most difficult fight of Leliana's life. She could truly believe that the Archdemon was a god, even the fight with Flemeth had not been so difficult. It took the combined efforts of the four of them as well as the Dalish Army to bring the dragon down, and by the end Leliana was out of arrows, Alistair and Curon were barely standing, and Wynne was nearly collapsed with the effort of keeping them all alive.

It had come at last to the final blow, the killing strike that would destroy the archdemon and end the Blight. It seemed absurd to Leliana to delay it, why fight for so long and so hard only to pause in the final moment? Yet Curon and Alistair had gotten into a seemingly pointless fight over who should do it.

"If you two cannot decide then I will kill the stupid thing," she said, and picked up a sword, but stopped when they both shouted "No!" at the top of their lungs. "It must be a Grey Warden," said Alistair.

"Then toss a coin or something," she said, her patience drawn thin by fatigue. "I did not come all this way only to be eaten by the Archdemon while you two bicker."

"Fine. Alistair, if you insist, then you should be the one to kill it," said Curon regretfully. "But..but you value yourself too low, my friend."

"I just don't want to get on the bad side of your assassin friend," Alistair said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "He was quite clear on how important it is that I not let you die."

"Wait, die?" said Leliana.

"Nobody is dying today if I have any say about it," said Wynne.

Alistair smiled apologetically at the two of them. He grabbed his sword and ran at the archdemon, striking it forcefully and severing it's head. There was an immediate burst of light and energy, Leliana was knocked to her feet by the intensity of it. As her eyes stopped burning and she struggled back to her feet she saw Alistair's body lying on the parapet, where he had been thrown some distance by the blast.

"Alistair!" she said "Maker's breath, please tell me you are not dead!"

Alistair opened his eyes and frowned. "No," he said "It would appear that I am not."

"You sound disappointed," said Curon.

"Oh, you're alive as well!" he said. "That's good. Surprising, but good." He looked over at the Archdemon. "And the Archdemon appears to be dead. Also good."

He sat up and rubbed his head. "I suppose it would be ungrateful of me to complain that I'm going to have to figure out how to be _King_ now."

* * *

In the end Alistair did not do too bad a job of figuring it out. Leliana found herself staying around for a while to offer advice, in some ways the court in Denerim it was like a simpler less cut-throat version of Val Royeaux (with much uglier shoes, alas) and she enjoyed the chance to use her political skills to actually help people. But Alistair eventually found himself some good local advisors, and a very sensible noble wife, and Leliana began to tire of this muddy copy of Val Royeaux and yearn for the real thing. And thoughts of Orlais inevitably led to thoughts of Marjolaine, and revenge. Leliana remembered her promise to Morrigan to stay near Curon so that she would be easy to find. But it had been three years, and she was fairly sure that Morrigan herself would consider hunting Marjolaine down to be a much more sensible use of Leliana's time than sitting around pining.

And did she even want to see Morrigan again? Looking back their love seemed like a dream, not something that could last in the harsh practical light of day. It had certainly left it's mark, Leliana was sure she would never had returned to Orlais, to this life of deceit and deadly charm, were it not for Morrigan's advice to embrace the darker, more manipulative side of her character. But she was not sure if she was grateful for it.

Leliana had been gone from Orlais for a long time, and loyalties in the court were quick to shift. The accusations of treachery against her were a distant memory attached to a discredited regime that no one with any sense wanted to be reminded of. Still, it would not be wise to show her face too openly in any place where she was likely to be recognised. Thus, her search led her to a small provincial town near the Nahashin Marshes, where, her sources told her, Marjolaine had connections to the local lord.

She looked in the mirror, as she prepared to meet this lord, and was amused by how deeply impractical her outfit was. She could barely breathe in her corset, could barely walk in her shoes, and the long loops and braids of her hair were just asking to get caught in trees. She would be in no end of trouble if she suddenly found herself facing darkspawn. And this was a _simple_ ensemble, since she did not want to intimidate the less ostentatious country folk with her city tastes.

Since she was a little early for her appointment she decided to browse the farmer's market that was taking place in the town square. She regretfully walked past the stalls of pastries and breads (too many crumbs!) and stopped eventually to look at the wares of a jewellery maker. Her eye was immediately drawn to his most expensive piece, a bracelet of roughly cut amethysts in a simple silver setting. It was not entirely to her taste, but she could not help but think of how much Morrigan would have liked it. As she reached to take a closer look her hands brushed against those of another customer who was reaching for it at the same time.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." she started, then stopped, as she looked up and their eyes met. Her first thought was that it couldn't be her: her figure did not have quite the same coltish thinness, and rather than rags or robes she wore a simple peasant's dress, decorated only with a single brooch. Most significantly, she had a small child sitting on her hip, the girl's distinctive golden eyes glaring at Leliana with an intense disdain. But yet, it was her.

"Morrigan," said Leliana.

Morrigan looked at her with a complex expression, her eyes showing relief, happiness, fear. But her voice was angry. "How did you find me?" she asked.

"I...I was not looking for you. This is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. What are you doing in Orlais? And who…who is this child? Is she yours?" Leliana did not have much experience with children, but the girl could be no younger than two or three years old. But perhaps Morrigan was only minding her. And what business was it of Leliana's anyway?

"She is as much mine as she is anyone's, and this seemed as good a place to raise her as any," said Morrigan, her voice suddenly tired. "But then why are _you_ here? This backwater town is hardly the shining jewel of Val Royeaux."

"Marjolaine has connections with the local landowner," said Leliana, a little ashamed that they should meet again as a result of such an unpleasant business.

But of course Morrigan grinned. "Excellent!" she said. "I'm glad to see you are finally dealing with that woman. Let me know if you need me to set anyone on fire for you."

Leliana laughed. "I do not think that will be necessary. But it is good to see you." And it was. She felt as if she had regained a part of her she'd forgotten was missing. She placed her hand on Morrigan's shoulder. Suddenly her appointment seemed very unimportant. "Is it...are you...how have you been? I've missed you."

"I have missed you too," said Morrigan. "But we cannot...you would not like who I am now, or the choices I have made."

"And you think I haven't made bad choices? At least let give the chance to make my own decision."

Morrigan placed her hand on Leliana's. "Perhaps..." she said.

The little girl rolled her eyes with a disconcertingly adult look of boredom. "Mama," she said "Do you want me to go play?"

Morrigan came back to herself, and looked at her daughter with wry affection. "If you would be so kind," she replied, putting the child to the ground. Leliana watched as the dark haired girl walked confidently towards a small group of children playing under the watchful eye of an elderly matron, who nodded to Morrigan in recognition.

"She is very beautiful," said Leliana.

"She is Beauty itself," said Morrigan. "But come, let us sit somewhere private. I have much to tell you, though I do not know how much you will wish to hear it."

Leliana took her hand, and though she did not know where she was headed, for the first time in a long time she felt at peace.


End file.
